Security officials in Lebanon say they are increasingly optimistic that 2026 could mark the downfall of the country’s vast narcotics network, a shadow economy born out of the civil war and sustained for decades by regional instability.

For years, Lebanon and neighboring Syria have served as key hubs for the production and transit of narcotics, particularly Captagon, a powerful amphetamine that has flooded markets across the Middle East. From the Bekaa Valley and Homs to Jordan and the Gulf, the trade has enriched traffickers whose profits now bankroll militias and even state actors.

According to senior Lebanese security officials cited by Asharq Al-Awsat newspaper, the renewed optimism stems from sweeping changes along the Lebanese-Syrian border following the fall of the previous Syrian regime and the withdrawal of the notorious Fourth Division that had been long accused of facilitating cross-border trafficking.

“The beginning of the Syrian war triggered the Captagon boom,” a senior Lebanese security official told Asharq Al-Awsat. “But its end may mark the beginning of the trade’s collapse. Every link in the chain, from production to storage and distribution, has been hit by security operations.”

From 2023 to 2024, Syrian border towns became safe havens for traffickers who operated under regime protection, often in partnership with the Fourth Division. When the regime fell, many fled to Lebanon, where they quickly became targets for army intelligence units. Most have since been hunted down, arrested, or killed.

Security assessments stress that military operations alone are not enough. Officials argue that long-term stability requires economic revitalization in regions such as the Bekaa and Akkar, where poverty and State neglect have fueled tolerance — and sometimes participation — in the trade.

One security source recounted how a prominent trafficker once paid university tuition for local students, only to later recruit them as campus dealers.

“They played Robin Hood by giving to the poor, but at a very high cost,” the source said.

Before the Syrian war, Lebanon’s narcotics trade involved around 1.3 million Captagon pills. That number surged to 3 million during the conflict before dropping to roughly 400,000 in recent years.

“They were paupers who became kings, and we turned them back into paupers,” one security official said.

The trade flourished after Lebanon’s 2019 financial collapse, when the crash of the local currency and the paralysis of state institutions deepened poverty. In the Bekaa Valley, a region long neglected, many residents turned to drug production and smuggling to survive.

By 2011, Captagon had emerged as Lebanon’s “rising star," being a cheap, easily manufactured stimulant that required no farmland and was difficult to detect. Backed by Lebanese and Syrian networks, some with political and security ties, traffickers built fortunes and influence. Many financed local projects, mediated disputes, and even ran for office, creating semi-autonomous fiefdoms along the border.

Captagon’s appeal lies in its simplicity. It can be produced indoors year-round and often evades traditional scanning and police dogs. But the process emits a strong chemical odor, forcing manufacturers to bribe officials or pay landowners for remote access.

Taking advantage of legal loopholes, traffickers operated freely for years, as Captagon was not initially classified as an illegal drug in several countries, including Lebanon. Many were arrested only on weapons or possession charges, not for trafficking Captagon itself.

By the late 2000s, organized smuggling rings controlled the main routes between Syria, Iraq, and the Gulf. As the Syrian conflict intensified, production shifted to Lebanon, where traffickers built secret labs and produced cheaper “cut” versions for higher profit.

At the height of the Syrian war, Captagon profits became a vital funding source for armed groups, militias, and state-backed actors. The trade financed weapons and logistics for factions supported by Iran and Hezbollah.

The Russian Wagner Group was also reportedly involved, managing an air bridge to Libya and charging up to $5,000 per crate of Captagon.

Between 2014 and 2020, as extremists seized territory along the Syrian border and Lebanon’s political crisis deepened, traffickers reestablished themselves on Lebanese soil. They built labs in remote mountain areas and converted abandoned factories into production centers.

As Lebanon’s internal security improved, authorities launched a nationwide crackdown. The army led raids in the Bekaa Valley and along the Syrian frontier, while Internal Security Forces dismantled networks inside cities and ports.

“The supposedly ‘peaceful’ traffickers became bloodthirsty,” an officer said. “Few raids ended without a gunfight.”

Facing losses estimated at $200 million in the first year alone, traffickers began using mobile labs hidden in trucks. However, these makeshift operations were slow and easy to track.

The campaign reached its peak with the killing of Ali Monzer Zeaiter, known as “Abu Salleh,” Lebanon’s most notorious drug lord. A former small-time dealer in Beirut’s eastern suburbs, Abu Salleh rose to power commanding a private militia and overseeing hundreds of surveillance points across the Bekaa.

After eight months of planning, the army launched “Operation Marlboro,” striking during a dinner Abu Salleh was hosting for associates. Though he initially escaped using his wife as a human shield, he was later tracked and killed in an airstrike following a brief return from Syria.

Abu Salleh, who had previously ambushed an army patrol and killed several soldiers, was known for using his wealth to fund students who later distributed drugs on his behalf.

If the current security momentum holds, officials believe Lebanon may finally close the chapter on a decades-long narcotics empire that thrived amid war, poverty, and political paralysis.

“2026 could mark the end of the drug world that was born out of our civil war,” said a senior security source. “This time, we’re not just dismantling labs. We’re dismantling an entire way of life.”